Crashed
by eluvent
Summary: After finishing up a tough hunt, Sam and Dean are driving back to the bunker when tragedy strikes. Can a severe car crash take out the famed Winchester brothers? Hurt!Dean, Minor Hurt!Angsty!Sam. Set mid-season 7. One-shot. Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the Winchesters. Please R&R!


Dean drove down the deserted road, the car silent and Sam looking out the window. Both of them carried minor injuries from recently taking out a rather large vampire nest. They had, unfortunately, lost an old hunter friend in the process. A light rain fell from the sky, pattering against the windshield and deepening the solemn mood. They were driving across the country, back to the bunker, having just given their friend a hunter's funeral. "He shouldn't have been in there." Dean muttered, gripping the wheel tighter.

Sam looked over to him. "He's a hunter, Dean. It's what he does." He cleared his throat and looked back out the window, adding quietly, "Did." The rain strengthened outside and fogged up the windows slightly. Dean switched on the windshield wipers, straining his eyes to see through the torrent. All that was guiding his Impala was the shining of his headlights in the reflectors on the road. He drove under a carved-out rock formation, blocking the rain and leaving them in utter silence, marked only by the sound of the windshield wipers stuttering across the dry glass and their soft breathing filling the heatless vehicle.

When the car left the cave, they were left on a seemingly never-ending turn, with nothing but a lane and a railing on their left to keep them from plummeting eight hundred feet down a sheer incline. Dean couldn't see past the sharp, lengthy bend, but had to trust that anyone coming that way would simply stay in their lane. He was mistaken.

A fairly sizable SUV turned the corner, weaving between the lanes. He swore and swerved his car just as the other veered off again, headed straight for them. Sam clung on to the door, looking bewildered as the Impala fought to stay in control. The SUV finally went off the side, crashing through the railing and diving over. Dean glanced over and saw a burst of black smoke erupt from the truck as it fell, and he clenched his teeth in dismay. He slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel over, attempting to keep their car on its path. The rain had made the road slippery however, and the car skidded and went over.

The Impala rolled over a few times down the steep slope before slamming into a pine tree and settling. Broken glass coated the floor and seats of the old car, and the pungent smell of burning rubber hung in the air. Rain still fell heavily, pouring through the shattered windshield. All was silent for a few moments, both of the boys still. Then Sam stirred, groaning and holding his head. He leaned back, shifting uncomfortably. "Dean." He moaned, nearly choking at the rush of pain in his head. He raised a hand to shake him, but he didn't respond. He just sat unmoving, slumped against the side of the car.

The car's frame was beaten beyond recognition. The roof was caved in, the windows smashed, and the driver's side curved around the tree they'd impacted. Blood streamed down Dean's face, but Sam doubted that that was the worst of his injuries. He watched him closely for a minute, letting out a short sigh of relief when he saw his back rising and falling slightly. He turned to the door and bumped it open, half-stumbling out and then turning to the motionless body in the car.

Sam reached in, tugging at Dean's arm and sliding him off the seats and onto the dirt. Then he crouched beside him, clutching at the ground for stability while he looked over his brother's injuries. A large chunk of glass was lodged in his shoulder, along with a growing blood stain around his side. He placed one hand on his shoulder and gripped the glass with the other. He swallowed, then yanked the glass out. Dean's body tensed and his eyelids fluttered, a quiet choke escaping his throat. "Come on." Sam breathed.

Dean lay still, his body numb with agony and reality slipping away. He felt like he couldn't get enough air. "Holy _shit!_ " Sam looked up to see a middle-aged woman standing at the top of the slope, her hands holding her hair panickedly. "Call an ambulance!" He yelled. She nodded her head, wide eyed, then fumbled with her cell. She spoke quickly into the phone, giving details and then dropping her arm. "They're on their way." She called. He hooked his elbows underneath Dean's arms and heaved him up the slope, nearly slipping with every step. Dean's arm felt torn with pain at the strained movement.

Sam finally set him down on the pavement, both of them soaked and freezing. The stranger stared down at the body, horrified and wringing her hands nervously. Sam kneeled beside him, pressing his palm to his brother's shoulder and keeping an eye on his breathing. "Shit, Dean. You gotta pull through this, okay?" He muttered. A couple minutes of silence passed, the rain washing blood onto the asphalt.

The blare of an ambulance sounded and he looked up to see blue and red flashing lights coming from around the corner. The truck came to an abrupt stop beside them, and two paramedics rushed out, carrying a gurney. He stood up and backed away as the men lifted his brother onto the gurney, strapped him in, and placed an oxygen mask over his face. Then he followed them into the back of the truck, one of the paramedics talking into a speaker on his shoulder as the ambulance sped off. "We have a white male, early thirties. Possible concussion and broken ribs, suffering laceration in shoulder region and severe blood loss. Being transported to Down East Community Hospital."

"What happened?" The other paramedic demanded. "Our car uh…" Sam looked up from his staredown with Dean's limp body. "Went over the side and crashed into a tree." The guy looked baffled as he pressed a wad of gauze to his brother's shoulder. "It's a miracle on its own that you guys didn't die on impact." Sam looked grim. "Yeah." The one who had spoken into the walkie talkie came around and lifted up the side of Dean's shirt. Sam shifted his stance to see what he was looking at, and saw a mess of blood surrounding three ribs jutting out. "Time update?" He called. "Two and a half minutes." Someone from the front responded. The man frowned and stood up.

A few minutes later, they reached the hospital and Sam reluctantly had his minor injuries attended to. A bandage here and a dose of painkillers there and everything was fine for him. It was his brother that had all of his concern. He was then forced to remain in the waiting room as his brother underwent surgery.

An hour passed, then two, and he began wondering if something had gone wrong. The worst possible scenarios flowed through his head, and he was on the verge of tearing his hair out in anxiety when a doctor called his name. "Sam Bonham?" The middle-aged man called. Sam stood up immediately and walked over. "Ah, Sam. Your brother…" He glanced down at the clipboard he was holding. "Dean, is out of surgery and in recovery, if you'd like to see him. He shouldn't be waking until some time tomorrow, however." Sam looked over at the doctor as he was led to his brother's room. "But he's going to be okay, right?" The doctor hesitated. "This first night is crucial in the evaluation of his state. We'll see how he's doing in the morning, and perhaps then I will be able to give a more...Definitive answer to that."

As they reached the room, the doctor nodded his goodbyes and walked off. Sam opened the door slowly, clenching his jaw at the sight before him. Dean, the guy who would never admit something was wrong until he had to admit it through a ouija board, was lying in a hospital bed with an uncertain fate. What Sam could of him was pale, and bruises painted the side of his face. It was all he could do to keep himself from thinking how bad it really was. If the doctor couldn't even give an answer to his question...He shook his head, told himself not to think about that. His brother would be okay. Because he was always okay. That's just the way it worked.

It wasn't until late-morning sunlight was filtering through the small window that Sam realized he'd fallen asleep. He straightened up in his chair, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub the last remnants of sleep away. The first thing he saw was Dean, still unconscious. "Damn, Dean." He leaned forward, searching his eyes for any indication that he would wake soon. Nothing. There was a short knock on the door and he looked up to see a doctor entering. "Mr. Bonham?" She spoke smoothly, calmly, and quietly. He stood up quickly, anticipating any information she had on Dean. "We looked over your brother while you were sleeping earlier this morning." She flashed a quick smile before continuing. "We expect him to make a full recovery, with a few weeks of rest, of course." Sam released a long breath of air he hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you." He glanced over at Dean. "Really, thank you." She nodded and left the room as silently as she had entered.

Sam sat back down, looking to Dean once again. Color had returned to his face, so it really did just look like he was sleeping. "Take your time." He murmured. "I'll be here when you wake up."

And he was.


End file.
